


Lockdown

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boredom, COVID-19, Explicit Sexual Content, Frustration, Interesting, Isolation, Kissing, M/M, Quarantine, lockdown - Freeform, silliness, stuck at home together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: John Watson and Sherlock Holmes attempt to survive lockdown.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's Sherlock, though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them. All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community and stay safe and well!

John came up the stairs practising what he was going to say to Sherlock when he saw him. No matter how he played it out in his head, Sherlock was going to freak out, he was sure of it. Finally he decided he would just wing it and say whatever came out in the moment. He let himself in and hung his jacket. "Sherlock!" he called out, taking his shoes off at the door. 

“I’m right here, John, you don’t need to shout,” Sherlock said. “Or keep shouting if you’d like – I don’t really care.”

"Listen Sherlock, I need to talk to you about something," John said.

“What have I done? I’ve stayed inside all day -- I’m not even lying,” Sherlock said. “You told me to stay inside while you were at work and I did, so why am I in trouble?”

"You're not in trouble," John said. "I just . . . something happened at work and I don't want you to freak out."

“I never ‘freak out’ and I’m actually offended by that comment,” Sherlock said. “Will this entire conversation be about attacking me?”

"Just listen. A patient I regularly see tested positive for Covid, so I have to isolate and keep track of my symptoms for a couple weeks."

“I thought everyone was isolating? That’s what you told me – that’s why I couldn’t go out,” Sherlock said. 

Sherlock wasn’t unaware of what going on obviously. He and John had watched the Prime Minister announce the lockdown, but there was a small part of him that thought it wouldn’t quite apply to him – whether he was assuming he’d be working for the police, or maybe his brother would have some influence, Sherlock hadn’t thought out the details. Perhaps he was just trying to avoid thinking about the whole thing. It was much easier to pretend that this was one of the little games he and John sometimes played – John would nag him and Sherlock would fuss, but they always worked it out. He’d promised to stay home while John was at work today, and in many ways it hadn’t seemed much different than any other day.

Suddenly his mind snapped back to the present. “Are you saying you have it?” he asked, standing up quickly. “Does this mean I have it as well?”

"No, I'm not saying I have it. I don't have any symptoms ,and I'm sure you don't have it either. Obviously if you want to stay with Mrs Hudson until I'm clear . . . I just want you to be informed. I'll be checking my symptoms and being careful."

“I don’t feel ill,” Sherlock said. “But if you’ve been exposed and I’ve been exposed to you . . . it’s probably too late, right? I mean, there’s no use in my going away. I could put someone else at risk.”

John nodded. "That's true. I really don't think either of us have it -- we probably would have started showing symptoms. But now everything is out, I can monitor your temperature as well if you want, and I think everything will be just fine," he said.

“I know how to take my own temperature, John,” Sherlock said. Since he was already up, he moved into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Besides you’re the one who was been exposed – are you feeling all right? You should be honest.”

"I am being honest. I feel perfectly fine," John said. 

Sherlock made the tea and brought in two mugs. “Other than that, work was fine?” he asked. It’s what he would normally ask when John got home, even though admittedly he wasn’t always paying attention to the answer. It seemed strange now that John’s work was more of a danger than the work they did together.

"Yeah, it was fine. I won't mind a little break, though I wish it was for a better reason," he said.

“It’s a shame it’s not a real break where we could go somewhere,” Sherlock said. “Like a little holiday or something, I mean. Though I normally don’t like holidays. I don’t know what I’m talking about it.” He took a long drink of tea, mostly just to avoid continuing to talk.

"Don't start losing it on me already, we've barely started the lockdown," John teased.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine – we’ll be able to keep busy and everything will be fine,” Sherlock said. “I think we should stop talking about it actually. Let’s just have a normal evening, okay?”

"Alright, sure. I think that's a good idea," John said. He didn't want to admit he was a bit anxious about the news himself.

“Are we going to have dinner? Are you going to cook something or do you need to rest?”

John looked over at Sherlock. "I can make something. Are you craving anything?"

“Whatever you want,” Sherlock said. “I can help, if you need me to. Or you can do it on your own – you always do such an excellent job,” he added, giving John a stupid smile.

John laughed as he got up. "I think I can manage it. You can cook next time," he said.

Sherlock stood up and walked over to the window. The street was empty. It was too unusual so he pulled the curtains shut and tipped the rest of the tea into his mouth. He glanced at the kitchen where John was busying himself, so Sherlock flopped on the sofa and flipped through the channels.

John made pasta, quick and easy, using the jar of sauce instead of making his own. It wasn't long before he brought the two plates to the living room. "No news tonight, please. We can't work a case anyway, and I don't want to hear anything more about this virus."

“All right,” Sherlock said. He flipped to a cartoon network. “How about this?”

John grinned. "Perfect," he said as he dug into his dinner.

“This tastes good,” Sherlock said. “I actually sometimes really enjoy eating the things you make.”

John glanced over. "It's nothing special, not really," he said.

“Well, before you, I rarely ever had meals,” Sherlock said. “At first it annoyed me, but I’ve got used to it. I’ve had to get used to a lot of new things.” He glanced over at John and gave him a genuine smile. “All in all, though, I’m glad we’re together.”

"You know that's how rumours start," John teased.

“I don’t care about rumours,” Sherlock said. “You’re the only one who cares about all that.” He looked over at the television. “We’re like them, Tom and Jerry. Are there rumours about them?”

On the screen, Tom tried to slam Jerry with a large frying pan, but he missed and it bounced back and hit his own face.

“Well, we’re not exactly like them,” Sherlock mumbled.

John laughed. "I wouldn't say we're like them, but we are a good pair.” 

“Then we’ll be fine,” Sherlock said. He finished his food and set his plate on the table. “Though . . . I’m worried that if you get ill, I won’t know what to do.”

"Don't worry. I'm not going to get ill. It's just a precaution. We'll be fine," John insisted.

“But if you do . . . I should call Sarah and ask her?” Sherlock asked. He focused on the television. “You always take care of things around here. I just want to know – just in case.”

"Even if I get it I won't be incapacitated," John said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. "But yes, you can always call Sarah if you need anything."

“That’s all I wanted to know – just tell me if you’re starting to feel bad,” Sherlock said. He stood up and took their plates to the kitchen. He washed them and came back. “I suppose you’ll want to sleep in late tomorrow.”

John grinned. "Yes I would," he said. "That sounds great, actually. Especially since we were working on a case before I went a back. A nice lie-in would be a real treat," he said.

“I won’t set my alarm either then,” Sherlock said. “We can both sleep all day.”

"Are you going to sleep now?" John asked. "It’s quite early for you."

“I’ll be honest – that’s probably hopeful thinking,” Sherlock acknowledged. “I think I’d prefer to sleep through all this, but you’re right, it’s unlikely.”

"Well, you have to try to relax, you know? This is a good opportunity for you to rest,” John said.

“John, I am not good at ‘relaxing’ at the best of times. You expect me to start during a global pandemic?”

"There's no case and there's no work. It’s the perfect time. The global pandemic is out there," John said, waving his hand towards the window. 

“Right but there’s still a lot going on in here,” Sherlock said, tapping the side of his head. “I’ll try, though.”

"Well that's all I can ask, really." John checked the time. "I'm going to check my temperature before we go to bed. I'll be right back."

Sherlock instinctively reached up and touched his own forehead. “I don’t feel hot,” he said. “Or cold, so I guess that’s good.”

"Good," John said. He took his temperature and focused on his breathing. "My temperature is normal and I'm breathing fine."

“How’s my breathing?” Sherlock said, inhaling deeply and letting out a loud exhale.

"Your breathing sounds just fine," he said. "So far so good."

“That’s a relief,” Sherlock said. “Well, I guess we’ve made it through Day 1 – things haven’t been that bad, have they?”

"No. I think things have been pretty normal actually." John stretched and looked over at Sherlock. "I'm off to bed," he announced.

“I’ll try as well,” Sherlock said, getting up. “We’ll get through this fine,” he said and headed off to his room.


	2. Things Are Not Fine

"Shut up!" John yelled through the door. "I'm arranging your funeral for when I come out and murder you!"

“Just try it, John,” Sherlock shouted. “You might be strong, but I’m clever and fast. I will break both of your legs before you have time to go for a weapon!”

"I already have a weapon and by the time you get to my legs I'll have you ended," John snapped through the door. "You want to talk to me about peace and quiet while you pace and pace and pace -- tell me, do you step on the creakiest boards on purpose?"

Sherlock immediately made a mental note to identify the noisiest boards and be sure to walk on them more frequently. He stood there for a moment, trying to listen through the door. What was John doing in there? He’d been in there forever.

“All right that’s it,” he said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up to his ear. “Mrs Hudson, this is Sherlock. Unfortunately, there is an issue upstairs. Apparently John can no longer behave like an adult and has been severely mistreating me.” He paused. “What’s that? He has to move out immediately? But Mrs Hudson – what about the lockdown? I see – you don’t want a monster living above you. I understand. I’ll let him know.” He pounded on the door. “Do you hear that, John? She wants you out!”

"You're so funny," John said sarcastically. "Too bad I know you weren't talking to her because that's who I am talking to. I have to switch everything to my name when I kill you!" John said, finishing in a loud yell. "Calls me a monster when he's the one shooting the damn walls every other day like a maniac!"

“I haven’t shot a single wall this week, you idiot!” Sherlock hit the door again and then stomped off to his bedroom, slamming the door for good measure.

John moved the phone from his ear and peeked out of the bathroom. He crept into the kitchen and started quietly making himself a snack to take up to his own room. 

Sherlock was still standing on the other side of his bedroom door, listening. When he could tell John was in the kitchen, he pulled out his phone.

_Could you keep it down out there? I thought you wanted peace and quiet, yet here you are, banging pots and pans together for no reason other than to irritate me. SH_

John rolled his eyes when he saw the message. He found the emoji with the middle finger and sent three of them to Sherlock. When he continued making his lunch, he started slamming things for real.

Sherlock lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. He tried to force himself to sleep, but John’s noise kept intruding. He huffed a few times, trying to get comfortable, all to no avail. He checked his laptop, sending Lestrade yet another email asking for something to do. Then he stood up, grabbed his cigarettes from the nightstand, and headed out. He marched into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and blew the smoke in John’s direction.

"Go. To. The. Window." John stopped what he was doing and glared at Sherlock.

“I don’t want to let any germs in,” Sherlock said.

John grabbed the spray bottle he used to water the plants and sprayed Sherlock, so his cigarette went out.

“Childish!” Sherlock said. “You owe me for me that!” He got up and moved close to John, not close enough to touch but definitely close enough to annoy.

"I don't owe you anything. Go away," John said. He plated his sandwich and started looking for crisps.

Sherlock followed behind John everywhere he went. “So I suppose you’re just going to eat that sandwich then?” he said.

John ignored him and went to the sofa to eat. He stacked the pillows between them.

“Oh, that’s very grown up,” Sherlock said. He moved over to the window and lit another cigarette even though in truth he didn’t even fancy it. “Have you been taking your temperature?” he asked. “Is this one of the symptoms – being insufferable?” 

John thought about ignoring him again but after swallowing his bite he sighed. "I've been checking it and it's fine," he said.

“Well, what’s wrong with you then?”

"Nothing is wrong with me," John said.

“Then why are you being so mean to me?”

"You started it," John said childishly. 

“Well, maybe we should just try to stay away from each other,” Sherlock said, fully aware that was impossible to last long. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day? Just bang things around and talk the entire time?”

"I'll be up in my room, watching movies on my computer and reading," he said. He finished eating and got up to clean his plate and get something to drink.

“Feel free to stay up there until you can treat your flatmate with a little more respect,” Sherlock said. “I think I’ll just sit here and smoke for the rest of the day.”

"I'll stay in there until you stop being so rude," John said, heading for the stairs.

Sherlock watched him go. He lit another cigarette but definitely didn’t want it, so he stubbed it out. He got up and headed into his own room.

After a couple hours of trying to keep himself occupied and trying to get comfortable in bed to watch movies John gave up, more bored than ever. He needed something to do, something more than just lying around because there had been too much of that already. He closed his computer and went down to the sitting room, looking around the whole room. It was a mess, really. That's what he could do. He started organising everything and cleaning up, making his way around the mess.

Sherlock had fallen asleep reading. When he woke the book was on his chest, but he couldn’t recall a single thing he’d read. Then he heard John moving around in the flat. He decided he’d just stay hidden in his room until John went silent. Then he heard thumping, and his already angry curiosity got the best of him.

He went storming out, spotting John near his desk with a pile of papers in his hand. “What the fuck are you doing with my things?” he spat out.

John looked over sharply and just barely held back his reply. No. He wasn't going to engage with Sherlock when he was acting like that. He went back to organising the desk, ignoring Sherlock. 

“I cannot do this, John,” Sherlock said, moving toward the flat’s door. “I cannot stay here right now.”

"Unless you're going to stand out in the hallway I don't know where you think you're going," he said. He stacked the papers and moved on to the scattered pens and pencils all over the desk. "All I am doing is tidying up the place because I am bored out of my mind. There is no need to shout at me."

Sherlock knew John was right, but somehow that made him even angrier. He moved swiftly over to his desk, pushing John out of the way. “You deal with your things,” he said, sitting down. “Don’t even touch my things.”

John grabbed the chair and pushed him back from the desk. "Don't tell me what to do. Everything is your stuff and everything is in my way so I am going to fix it," he said. He stepped in front of Sherlock and continued working. 

Sherlock stood up and pushed John out of the way, shouting, “Everything here is mine because this is my desk! Start somewhere else if your urge to fix things is eating away at you because you’re not at the surgery!” he shouted.

John pushed him back. "This is my space, too! I also live in this flat and I want it tidy!" he said. 

“You are being a total prick,” Sherlock said standing his ground.

"Fine. Fine! You don't want it cleaned up?" John swept his arm across the desk, sending pens, pencils and papers all over the floor. "There! A sty, just like you like it," he yelled. He stormed off and up to his room, slamming the door shut. 

Sherlock looked his things all over the floor and then looked up at John’s bedroom door. He stood there for a moment and then stormed off to his bedroom, also slamming the door. Due to his earlier nap and the anger pumping through his body, he knew his only option was his Mind Palace. He lay down and as soon as John made an appearance, Sherlock slammed the door in his mind shut as well.

John paced in his room, fuming and ashamed. He didn't mean to lose his temper like that but being stuck inside and constantly checking his temperature and all of the bickering leading to this fight – it’d been unbearable. They were only five days in. He didn't know how long lockdown would last, but they needed to get it together. He sighed loudly and lay down on his bed, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. 

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, everything was dark and the flat was silent. He looked at the clock and it was after midnight. What was the point of getting up now? There was nothing to do and in truth he just didn’t want to deal with John and the stupid arguments they’d had all day. He couldn’t even remember how the whole thing had started. And while he was pretty sure he’d been right about whatever the problem was, he also knew that the shouting he’d done probably hadn’t been necessary. 

He lay there for a few moments. Eventually, he did get up, but only to go to the bathroom, wash his face, put on his pajamas and then come back to bed. He knew he’d just be staring up at the ceiling in the silence all night.

John didn't know how long he tossed and turned. The room was dark and the flat was quiet. He got up and crept down the stairs, looking at the mess he made. Slowly he started cleaning it up, carefully arranging everything as quietly as he could before going back to bed.


	3. A Client

There was a knock at the door. At first Sherlock thought he’d imagined it, but then he heard it again. He glanced up at John’s bedroom, but he hadn’t got up yet. Then he heard it again. 

Someone was definitely outside their flat.

Sherlock stood up and moved over, standing still and staying quiet in hopes they’d go away. Which was stupid because, of course, they’d know he was home. Everyone was home. Everyone except whoever was on the other side of the door.

They knocked again.

“Who’s there?” Sherlock asked through the wood.

“Mr Holmes?” a voice responded.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked.

“I need your help.”

For a millisecond, Sherlock considered calling John – John was the one who helped people. But if the man was sick or injured, why would he have come here and not a hospital?

“Call 999,” Sherlock said.

“No, not that kind of help,” the man said. “I need your services.”

Sherlock’s anxiety immediately turned to anger. “We have a website, we have a phone number – why risk everyone’s health coming here?” he said. 

“It’s my wife – I think she’s cheating – but she’s always there now so I couldn’t get the privacy to call. She sent me out to the shop near here, so I thought I’d come by.”

“I can help you, free of charge,” Sherlock said loudly. “Your wife is planning to leave you, you’re right. Not because of an affair but because you’re an idiot. Now get away from here, go home and self isolate for the rest of your life.”

Sherlock leaned against the door, listening to the sound of the man’s footsteps down the stairs and then the opening and closing of the front door.

In his bedroom, John shifted under the covers, his dream fading. He was already losing details, but he could hear . . . something. He thought it was part of his dream, so he ignored it and tried to doze off again. But the shouting continued and finally his sleepy brain caught up enough to realise it was coming from downstairs, that it was Sherlock shouting.

He groaned and got out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown before padding down. "Sherlock? What's happening? Why are you yelling?"

“Some man was at the door – basically literally trying to kill us with the virus,” Sherlock said. “All because he thought his wife had a bit on the side.”

"Are you talking about a client? Someone was here?" John asked. He was already looking around to find the most likely place he'd have to start the disinfecting. 

“He claimed to be a client,” Sherlock said. “He didn’t come in obviously, I didn’t even open the door. I just can’t believe there are idiots like that out there.” Which was stupid to say because of course he was well aware of the amount of idiots in the world since he spent a great deal of his time pointing them out.

Suddenly he heard another noise from the other side of the door. This time he recognised it. It was Mrs Hudson calling his name. He moved over and opened the door.

“What can I do for you, Mrs Hudson?” he called down.

“You’re not supposed to be having guests, Sherlock Holmes!” she shouted up at him. “Where’s John?”

Sherlock turned to look at John. “She wants you,” he said.

John went to the door. "I’m here, Mrs Hudson, are you alright?"

“Why are you in your dressing gown?” she asked.

"I just woke up, I heard shouting," he said.

“It’s kind of late to be sleeping in – are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“John is fine,” Sherlock said. “Everything is fine up here. We’re fine.” He glanced over at John. They’d been fine since that fight, right? He looked back down at her. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Can we do anything for you?”

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Bored, of course. But I thought you were having visitors. There was so much shouting!"

“It was an idiot who showed up for a case – I did not contact him, I had nothing to do it with it!” Sherlock explained defensively.

“Well, just listen to John, Sherlock – he knows about all this. He’s the responsible one,” Mrs Hudson. “And no more yelling!” she yelled before she disappeared into her flat.

John came in and closed the door. "You did good, not letting him in," he said. "I know you must be desperate for a case."

“I am, but I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m too stupid to understand what lockdown means,” Sherlock pouted as he moved to the kitchen. “I’ve not gone out, I’ve obeyed every rule.” He put some bread in the toaster for John’s toast.

"I know that," John said. "I was just saying. I mean, a lot of people aren't really listening and it’s going to make this last longer. I'm glad you yelled at him."

Sherlock smiled as he buttered John’s toast. He brought it over to John and then returned to get two mugs of tea. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. “She’s right – you did sleep quite late.”

John took the toast and smiled at Sherlock. "Thanks," he said, setting it down in front of him and digging in. “There’s nothing else to do, I might as well try to make up for all the sleep I’ve lost in my life.”

“I didn’t wake you because well . . . there was no reason to, obviously,” Sherlock said. “Have you been sleeping all right?”

"Did you forget about the shouting?" John asked teasingly. "I've been sleeping . . . well, not great. I just keep thinking about everything going on, if I'm honest. What about you?"

“Are you having nightmares again or just worrying?”

"No nightmares, just worrying," he said. "And going a little crazy if I'm honest."

“Yes, well, as you know, sleeping’s never been my strong suit, but I feel like I haven’t slept properly in weeks,” Sherlock said. “It’s not that I’m lying there worrying or even thinking really, it’s . . . I don’t know . . . I just wish we could do something. It’s stupid really – I know we can’t go anywhere, but why do I feel incapable of even just doing something in my own home?”

John nodded. "What is there to do, really? Besides eat. . . I'm sure I've put on at least a stone."

“There’s got to be something,” Sherlock said, dramatically throwing down his arms. “Oh my god, John,” he said, suddenly leaning forward in his chair. “Are we . . . boring?”

John looked at Sherlock, amused by his distress. "I think we are," he said dramatically.

“I refuse to accept that,” he said. He looked at his watch. “All right, we each have 24 hours to come up with something to do tomorrow that is interesting like we used to be. Whatever we each come up with, we both have to do it. Deal?”

"Yes fine, it's a deal," he said. "I'll start thinking. But you can't complain about the ideas. Or be rude about it!"

“Me complain?” Sherlock said. “I am always up for anything. You’re the one who is fussy.”

John raised his brows. "I'm going to check the blog. Maybe we can do some virtual cases."

“Just don’t invite them over,” Sherlock said.

"Obviously," John said. He moved to his chair and took out his laptop to log in. 

“Lestrade is still ignoring me – maybe I should give him a call,” Sherlock said, getting out his phone.


	4. A Case

“I know you’re available,” Lestrade said instead of hello. “You’ve emailed me almost every day to remind me. I’ve had things keeping me busy, you know, Sherlock.”

“What? Arresting old ladies for buying non-essential sherry?” Sherlock said. “We just need something.”

Lestrade recognised the sound of desperation in Sherlock’s voice. His heart went out to John actually. “Well, there’s something you two could work on,” he said.

“We can’t leave the flat,” Sherlock said. He motioned to John that they might have a case.

“I’m well aware of that, Sherlock. It’s a missing persons case – from before. We’ve finally narrowed down where we think he last was and got a hold of the footage. It might take a while, but you two could look over it.”

“Reviewing CCTV? Couldn’t an idiot there do that for you?” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” Lestrade said. “But I’m asking you two idiots there if you’d like to do it.”

Sherlock looked over at John and said, “Get us access. We’ll do it.”

Sherlock hung up and moved over to his desk. He looked over at John. “He wants us to review CCTV,” he said.

"I know that's not what you were hoping for, but at least it's something," John said.

“It is something,” Sherlock said. “Would you make us a cup of tea, please? I’ll get us sorted to look as soon as he sends it through.”

"Just give me one second to finish answering this," John said, typed up the last of the response and then stood up with a stretch, moving to the kitchen to start the kettle.

Sherlock stared at the screen. This was a ridiculous task, but maybe it would help them feel normal for a little while. When the details arrived, he opened the photo of the missing man. He tried to read his face – was this man in trouble or had he just run away from his life? Where was he now? Out in the world with the virus?

“Let’s bring up the footage on your computer,” he said when John returned. “We’ll keep his photo on mine. Do you want to bring a chair over here or what?”

John nodded. "Maybe I'll drag my chair over to be comfortable if it's going to take a while."

Sherlock took a sip of tea and then started the film. They watched for a few minutes. “This is so incredibly boring,” he said, glancing over at John.

John smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I knew it would be," he said. "Let's make a game out of it. Whoever spots the most weird things wins."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he also looked forward to see what he could find. Then he remembered he also had to be looking for the man, so he glanced back at his computer to remind him of the face.

“Is that a seagull on that guy’s head?” he asked. “Wait, no I guess it’s his hair. What a ridiculous haircut.”

John laughed. "Fine, you get that point. But I'm getting one for this man's tiny shorts. They're right up his arse!"

“Is that an adult?” Sherlock asked, squinting his eyes. “Oh my god, is that what fashion was before the virus? Did people really go out looking so ridiculous?” He laughed a little as he took a long drink of tea. “Looking at the guy’s face – do you think he ran away or got himself in some kind of trouble or what?”

"Hmm, I think he got in some trouble. He looks very sketchy." John gasped. "Look! This boy just stole this woman's wallet!"

“Is it our guy?” Sherlock said, excitedly before looking closely. “No . . . oh well, good on the kid for making a little extra money,” he added with a laugh. “Wait – didn’t we just see that woman kissing a dark-haired man and now she’s holding hands with that elderly guy. Think she’s running some kind of scam?”

"I don't know . . .oh! Was that . . . oh no, that wasn't our guy. Never mind," he said. 

“John,” Sherlock said. “I think our stories are more interesting than these people’s actual lives.” They turned their attention back to the screen, focusing more on finding the missing man.

John kept looking between the man on his own computer and the footage on Sherlock's. It seemed impossible as time was passing. It was going to take forever. John was about to get up for a snack when he saw it. "There! Pause quick," John said.

Sherlock hit pause and then went back, waiting for John to point him out. “I think you’re right,” Sherlock said. “I wish we could zoom in more,” he said, fiddling with a few keys until giving up. “You’re definitely right, I’m sure you are,” he said confidently. “Excellent work.”

John grinned. "I won the bet so you have to cook dinner," he said.

“Fine,” Sherlock said. “Let me send this to Lestrade – given you full credit, of course – and then I’ll make some food for you to put in your face.” He was smiling. The two of them working together again had felt good.


	5. Proving They're Interesting, Part One

“Good morning,” Sherlock said, as John emerged from his bedroom. “You’ve got five hours.”

"Five hours for what?" John asked, running his eyes as he yawned.

“Five hours to finish thinking about the activity you came up with,” Sherlock said. “To prove we’re not boring.”

"Oh," John said, making a face. "I’d forgotten about that. Okay." 

“Did I mention this is a competition?” Sherlock asked. 

"What's the prize?" John asked.

“I have no idea,” Sherlock said. “Which reminds me – you feeling okay? You didn’t have any side effects from my dinner, did you?”

"Hmm? No, I feel fine," he said.

“Interesting. . .” Sherlock said. “Let me know if that changes. Are you going to be making breakfast? I don’t want any, but I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea.”

"Did you poison me last night? Please tell me you didn't poison me," John said.

“Of course not, John. I was making a joke – remember jokes? Hmm, you assured me yesterday that we weren’t boring and today you seem to entirely lost your sense of humour. . . this does not bode well.”

“I still have a sense of humour, I just didn’t realise you’d said something funny,” John teased. “I'm going to make some toast now to give you ample time to work on your next joke." John went into the kitchen and started the kettle before looking for the bread. "I think we'll need the shop soon."

Sherlock glanced over. “We’ll see. . .” he said, looking back at his book.

After a few minutes John brought Sherlock his mug of tea and then sat at the table to eat his breakfast. He started thinking of ideas for later, trying to figure out what they could do to pass the time.

“How was your sleep?” Sherlock asked.

"Hmm, fine. How was yours?" John asked.

“I slept better than I have since this started,” Sherlock said. 

"Do you think that's because you worked a case? Well, kind of a case," John asked.

“That, or the sleeping pills I put in the soup last night,” Sherlock said, getting up and moving over to the table. He sat down next to John, giving him a cheeky grin.

John raised his brows. "You better not have drugged me Sherlock."

“Oh my god, John, it was another joke. What’s wrong with you?” he said. His voice changed slightly. “You’re feeling all right, yeah? You’ve been checking your temperature?”

John nodded. "Everything is fine," he said. "Pretty much normal every time I check it. You?"

“Yes, I’m fine. We’re both fine, so stop being so uptight,” Sherlock said. “In fact, you’ll definitely need to lighten up to fully experience the activity I’ve come up with.” He winked at John and finished his tea.

John blinked at him. "You came up with something already?" 

“I thought of it last night before I went to sleep and got up early this morning to make sure we had the equipment,” Sherlock said. “I take challenges very seriously, as you know.”

"Yes I can see that," John said. "I'll have to step up my game."

“Definitely,” Sherlock said, standing up. “I’m going to have a shower. I suggest you have one when I finish.”

"Don't pressure me," John teased.

“I’m not pressuring you – I’m saying you stink,” Sherlock said before disappearing into the bathroom.

John flipped him off as he disappeared, but he smiled to himself. He needed to think of a good, fun game that he could beat Sherlock at. 

Sherlock decided to take a bath instead of a shower. Why not? There was no rush to go do something. The hot water felt quite good, and he found himself nodding off once or twice. How could he be so tired when it felt like he’d done nothing since this had all started. It was like he hardly even moved his body anymore. 

When he got out, he wrapped a towel around him. In his bedroom, he stared at his wardrobe and decided to get a little more dressed up today. It was stupid, he knew, but again, why not? He pulled out his purple shirt which John had once complimented him on. It felt a little tighter than usual, and he wondered why. He fiddled with his hair in the mirror and then emerged. “Your turn,” he said to John. “And remember, just because we’re not going out, doesn’t mean you should skip deodorant.”

John glanced up and did a double take. "You look . . . you're all dressed up," he said. He stood up and stretched. "Am I getting dressed up too? Was that part of the deal?"

“No, that was not mentioned,” Sherlock said. “I just decided I wanted to look pretty today. You can make your own decision about how you want to look.” 

John rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You'll eat your words when I come out here in a tux," he said.

“I’d like to see that,” Sherlock said. He realised for some reason, he actually really would.

"Hmm. I think about it. I'll be right back.”

Sherlock really hadn’t thought all that much about this silly game after being distracted by Lestrade’s request, but it now kind of seemed important to him. He knew John would need lunch soon and Sherlock didn’t want that to disrupt this non-plan of his, so he made them two sandwiches and set them on plates on the table. He put the kettle on and while he waited for it, he dug out some candlesticks and put those on the table as well.

John took a quick shower, shaving for the first time in a few days. It felt good to come out tidy and fresh-faced. Before he came down to the sitting room again he dug through his closet for his suit. He chuckled as he put it on, leaving the jacket off and wearing the vest casually. He came down the stairs and saw the display in the kitchen. "Oh, well, good thing I dressed for the occasion," he said. 

Sherlock glanced up as he was pouring the tea. “Very handsome,” he said. “Your lunch is served.”

"Thanks. Look at you making food again," John teased. "I can get used to this."

“Just make sure you chew everything very carefully,” Sherlock said with a wink. He sat down. “So are you up for whatever challenges we’re going to face this afternoon?”

"I only came up with one game, I hope that will be okay," he said. "What you have planned sounds very intense."

“John, the goal was to prove we are interesting people – what I’ve got planned is not intense, it’s interesting,” Sherlock said. “Remember being interesting? It wasn’t that long ago.”

John laughed. "I'm wearing a suit to eat lunch in our own flat. I think that's interesting," he said. 

Sherlock laughed. “Or we’ve gone mad,” he said. “God, to be honest, I don’t really know or care anymore. I just wanted us to do something different. I’m sick of all the days running into each other. Yesterday was good because we did something, you know? I don’t know why I got dressed up or did the table like this . . . I just wanted us to do something.”

"I'm not complaining. I've been bored out of my mind," he said. 

“Good,” Sherlock said. “Is your sandwich all right? You don’t feel drowsy after eating it, do you?”

"When I pass out on the table, please catch my head so I don't hurt myself," he said. 

“Will do,” Sherlock said. “So what task do you have for us?” he asked, finishing up his tea.

"It’s a game. You pick a name and write it down for the other person and they put it on their forehead without looking at it and then they have to guess who it is." John looked up at him. "That's my big idea."

“A game? Interesting,” Sherlock said. He got up and moved to the desk to get some sticky notes. He scribbled his name on one and then stuck it to his forehead. “Like this? But what am I supposed to be guessing?”

John laughed. "No." He grabbed the pad and hid it from Sherlock as he wrote down Mrs Hudson. Without showing Sherlock he got closer and replaced the note on Sherlock's forehead with the one he wrote. "You have to guess who I wrote."

“Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock said.

"What! You cheated," John said.

“I didn’t. I guessed,” Sherlock said. “I don’t understand this game. Can you explain it once more?”

"You . . . that's the game. You cheated and beat it."

“Let me try it,” Sherlock scribbled a name on a paper. “Do I put in on my head or yours?”

"Mine because I have to guess what you wrote, so I can't see it."

Sherlock stuck the paper on John’s head. “Okay, now guess,” he said.

"You have to give me clues! That's how the game works."

“Oh, I understand now,” Sherlock said. “It’s a person.”

"Yes, obviously," John sighed. "Someone famous or someone we know?"

“Someone we know,” Sherlock said.

"Greg?" John asked.

“No,” Sherlock said. “Does this mean I win?”

"The questions keep going until the person guesses it correctly. Your turn went wrong because you cheated and got it before we could really start," John said.

“I didn’t cheat,” Sherlock said. “Have you got another question?”

"Do we like this person?" John asked.

“We? Our opinions on other people do not always agree,” Sherlock said. “But the answer is yes.”

"Is it Mycroft?" John asked.

“You like Mycroft?” Sherlock asked. “This is news to me.”

"I said someone we don't like. We. Am I right?"

“No, you didn’t,” Sherlock said. “Don’t be a baby. We know and like this person.”

"Is it Mrs Hudson? Did you steal mine?" 

“It is,” Sherlock said. “See? Don’t do yourself down, you got there in the end.” He patted John’s head.

John swatted his hand as he ducked away from him as he pulled the paper off his forehead. It did say Mrs Hudson. "Don't patronise me! At least I didn't cheat," he said.

“Don’t spoil the afternoon with unfounded accusations,” Sherlock said. He sat down in his chair. “Well, that was fun.”

"Do you want to play again?" John asked.

“Maybe later,” Sherlock said. “You know – since we’re all dressed up, I think I’ll have a whiskey. Would you like to join me?”

"Sure, why not," John said. He pushed up his sleeves and watched Sherlock pour the drinks.

Sherlock handed John a glass and sat down. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he said after taking a sip. “But I don’t think your game proved we were interesting people. It mainly just proved that we know Mrs Hudson.”

"I think my game was fun," John said. "I had a good time even though I was mildly harassed."

“I’m sorry it took awhile for me to understand, but you should know that I did not cheat.”

"I know. You just got lucky," John grinned.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Sherlock said. He looked over. “You do look very smart even though your hair’s a little shaggy.”

John ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it even more as he tried to fix it. "You look beautiful and smart too," John said. "You know that shirt is...well, it fits you really well."

“It feels too tight,” Sherlock said, unbuttoning the top. “I think I’ve put on weight.”

John watched his fingers and then looked away quickly. "It's fine. It's just fitted, that's all." He took a big sip of his drink.

“Why do you like it?”

"It just looks good on you," John said. "It's flattering."

“You’re flattering,” Sherlock said. “Me, I mean. I don’t know why . . . is this because you’ve not been able to go on any dates.”

John finished his drink. "No, that's not why. I'm just saying. I'm not allowed to compliment my friends?"

“I’m just wondering why you stopped,” Sherlock said. “You used to compliment me quite often, but I feel like it’s been weeks.”

"It hasn't been weeks," he said. He got up to refill his glass. "I'm sure it hasn't."

“It has. I keep all your compliments on file and the last proper one was pre-virus.”

"Okay, well, I just gave you one," John said, sitting back down again.

“I prefer compliments about my skills, not my sex appeal,” Sherlock said. “But thank you.”

"Show me some skills and I'll compliment them." John winked, then chuckled as his face flushed. He felt very silly.

“Fine, I will,” Sherlock said. He stood up and moved over to where John was sitting. He held out his hand.


	6. Proving They're Interesting, Part Two

John looked at Sherlock's hand and then up to his face. "What? Are you going to do magic?" he teased. 

“No, you asked for skills – I’m not good at magic, but I can show you something I am good at,” Sherlock said, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him up.

"Okay," he said. "Are you going to try and fight me?"

“No,” Sherlock said, pulling John close to him. “We’re going to dance.” He slid one arm behind John’s back. He started to move, swaying their bodies.

"Oh," John said softly in surprise. He adjusted his hands on Sherlock and moved with him.

“I won’t do anything too fancy,” Sherlock said. “Although I could. . .”

"What could you do?" He asked, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock spun John out a little and then pulled him back close. “I could dip you, if you think you can handle it.”

"A dip sounds very fancy. Maybe I'll dip you," he teased. 

“I’m not sure that’d be safe,” Sherlock said. “Do you like dancing?”

"I've never thought about it because I've never been very good at it. But this isn't bad."

“I’m quite good at it, though I rarely do it,” Sherlock said, doing another spin. “Would you say what we’re doing right now is . . . interesting?”

"I would say it is very interesting. Very out of the normal.”

“In a good way,” Sherlock said. “Let’s dip to end the dance.” He spun John out, stopped, gave him a smile, and then pulled him in, dipped him back, leaning down close to John’s face. “Very interesting,” he said with a smile and then lifted him back up.

"It was surprising,” John said. “You really are a good dancer."

“I know,” Sherlock said, stepping back and sitting down. He took a sip of whiskey. “I doubt anyone else on our street did that tonight.”

"No, I'm sure you're right about that," John said, taking a long drink. 

“That wasn’t actually my task, though,” Sherlock said. “That just came to me – sometimes good ideas just come to interesting people. My original task is a little more . . . dangerous.”

"Dangerous? Is it going to the shop?" John teased.

“No, not that kind of dangerous,” Sherlock said. “I was thinking we could ring some people and . . . well, prank them. Saying it aloud, I realise it’s quite immature, and while I’m sure it’d be classified as nuisance or harassment, I think the police probably have other issues to deal with.”

John grinned. “I haven't done that in ages -- since I was a kid!"

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a bit daft, but it could be interesting. Well . . . fun, I guess.”

"People we know or strangers? I used to dial random numbers and get strangers."

“Let’s try that,” Sherlock said. He got up and moved over to the sofa next to John. He lay his phone on the cushion between him. “You dial and then put it on speaker.”

"Okay, but I don't know any funny jokes except the ones from my childhood." He picked up the phone and dialed a random number, listening to it ring on the speaker. John cleared his throat just as the man answered. 

"Hello?"

"Yes hi, this is Dan from Argos. Your order’s come in.”

"What? What order?"

"You ordered a case of updog."

"What? What's updog?"

John grinned at Sherlock. "Nothing! What's up with you?" He hung up as the man started to curse angrily. 

It had taking him a minute, but Sherlock soon realised the utterly stupid joke John was making. He laughed aloud. “My god, John, are you really using the exact same prank you did as a child?” he asked. “You have some nerve judging my jokes.”

"I told you I didn't know anything else!" John laughed.

“Fine, let me show you how an adult does it,” Sherlock said. He dialed a random number and set the phone back on the sofa.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m sitting here with my colleague and we’re both wearing business suits because we’re business men who do business and we were wondering if you’d like to hire us.”

“Who is this?”

“As I said, we’re two businessmen. Are you in the market for some business?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about business, sir. You know meetings and spreadsheets and suits and ties. We’re very serious about our business and we’re prepared to be serious about yours as well, if you’d like to make us an offer.”

“What business? Is this Timmy?” 

“No, I’m afraid Timmy recently left our firm and his whereabouts are unknown to us.” Sherlock looked over at John who was leaning down close to the phone before noticing that he himself was too. God, they were both behaving like children. But at least it was interesting and fun.

“Timmy!” the man shouted. “Get down here now!”

“Sir, if you know where Timmy is, please tell him we’d like our stapler back. I will leave you to consider your options. You have our card. We’ll be here, eagerly waiting, in our business suits and ties,” Sherlock said before ending the call.

John laughed and shook his head. "Mine was better," he said. He was still grinning.

“Perhaps, but can you top it with the next one?” Sherlock asked.

"Let's see," John said, taking the phone and dialing another random number. He grinned at Sherlock as it started to ring, trying to think of something quick. But no one answered, the phone went to voicemail. "Booo," John recorded before hanging up.

Sherlock shook his head, and then he dialed another.

“Hello,” a kid said.

“Hey, is Erin there?” Sherlock asked.

“Who? There’s no Erin here.”

“Then how do you breathe?” Sherlock said before hanging up. “See I know some good jokes as well,” he said to John.

John laughed loudly. "That one was a bit better," he said.

Sherlock dialed another number but no one picked up. He tried three more, but they too went unanswered. “You try,” Sherlock said.

John picked the numbers at random, waiting for someone to answer. Nothing. "Why are people so boring? And why aren’t they answering? What else are they doing?"

“Here, let me try one more,” Sherlock said, taking the phone and dialing a number. He set the phone down and waited. 

A woman answered.

“Hello,” he said as he quickly tried to come up with something. “I’m a mouse.” He looked at John stupidly and then covered his face, giggling.

“Sherlock, is that you?”

Sherlock uncovered his face and leaned toward the phone. “No, it’s John,” he said.

“John? What are you two boys doing?” his mother said.

“John made me,” Sherlock said and then burst out laughing.

"What? Mrs Holmes! Hello," John said. He pushed Sherlock, but he was laughing. "Sherlock dressed up like a mouse. I'll send you a photo of the excellent make up I did." He raised his brows at Sherlock.

“Are you both all right?” she asked. “I can’t tell if I should be concerned or just annoyed.”

“Annoyed,” Sherlock said. “We’re fine. We were . . . just trying something new.”

“Well, I guess no harm done,” she said. “Are you both staying safe?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said.

“All right then. Don’t bother us with your pranks anymore, please. And tell Juno we said hello.”

“Juno who?” Sherlock asked.

“Juno you two are idiots,” she said and hung up.


	7. Something Actually Interesting

Sherlock looked at John and started to laugh again.

John covered his mouth as he laughed harder, his hand on Sherlock's arm still as they shook with it. It felt good to be carefree, to be able to laugh freely.

“Oh my god, John,” Sherlock said. “I think she’s right – I don’t think we are interesting anymore. We’re just . . . stupid now.” He picked up John’s whiskey glass and took a sip, leaning back against John’s shoulder.

John looked over and let his head fall too, resting on Sherlock's. "Well, fine. We're stupid now. We won't tell anyone, it's okay."

“Who would we tell, John? There’s no one else in the world anymore. It’s just you and me.”

"Hmm. I think I'm fine with that," he said.

“I am as well,” Sherlock said. He handed John the glass of whiskey. “Finish this, but don't spill any on your pretty outfit,” he said.

John took the glass and finished it in one shot. "All done."

“I hope you don’t mind but I think I’ll go back to more casual wear tomorrow,” Sherlock said. “Something less tight.”

John smiled. "I suppose I can live with it. You know what's not so tight?" 

“What?” Sherlock said as he got up to retrieve his own glass.

"Nothing!" John grinned and fell back against the sofa.

Sherlock laughed, before taking a sip of whiskey. Then his face changed. “I don’t get it,” he admitted, handing John his glass.

"I meant, wearing nothing," John explained. "If you’re nude, you don't have to worry about anything being too tight."

“I see. So you’re planning to be walking around naked for the rest of the lockdown?” Sherlock asked, flopping back down on the sofa.

"I'm not the one having a problem with tight clothes," John said. He reached over and pushed at a button on Sherlock's shirt, stressed enough that it just popped open. John chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“You’re right,” Sherlock said. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and slipped it off. “There I feel better,” he said. “But I’m cold now. Can you pass the blanket?”

John shifted and slowly leaned into Sherlock’s lap. "You don't need the blanket," he said, trailing his finger over Sherlock's chest and down to his stomach. 

Sherlock was a little confused by what was happening. He felt John’s finger on his skin and it felt quite nice. He still felt cold, so he wrapped his arms around John’s body, pulling him closer. “You’re soft,” he mumbled.

John rest his forehead on Sherlock's, his cheeks flushed. When Sherlock's eyes lifted to meet John's, John leaned in and kissed him softly, just pressing his lips to Sherlock's.

Sherlock let John kiss him. And then he kissed him back. The evening had taken an interesting turn.

John put his drink down on the table beside the sofa without looking so he could bring both hands to Sherlock's cheeks as they kissed. 

“You’re greedy,” Sherlock said in between kisses.

"Why?" John asked, his hands resting on Sherlock's chest now, still kissing his mouth.

“Because you’re fun,” Sherlock said. He wasn’t really sure what he was saying or even why this was happening. He lifted a hand to John’s hair as he moved to kiss John’s neck.

John let his head fall to the side and he panted softly, but the sound of his breathing brought him back to reality. He was drunk, not a lot, but enough. This wasn't a good idea. "I . . . I should go to bed," he said, pulling back a bit.

“It’s probably wise,” Sherlock said, shifting John off him. He took another sip of whiskey then picked up his phone. “John, it’s just gone seven,” he looked over at John. “It’s only seven o’clock.”

John looked over and took Sherlock's phone to see. Then he casually put it in his pocket and headed for his own bedroom. "Good night." He was trying not to smile.

“Good night, John,” Sherlock said. He walked to his own room, not bothering to turn off any lights.

John stripped everything off and climbed into bed. His body still felt warm, and he still tasted Sherlock. He drifted off replaying the end of the night.


	8. The Next Morning

Sherlock woke up. He was shirtless but still wearing his trousers, socks and shoes. He pushed himself up off the mattress and dragged himself to the bathroom where he splashed his face. He went back to his bedroom and got into his pajamas before going into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

John heard movement downstairs as he shifted in bed and stretched. Last night came to him immediately and his cheeks warmed again. He wondered how Sherlock was feeling. He stretched again and got out of bed, putting on pajama pants and a t-shirt. He stopped in the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen.

Sherlock heard John’s door, so he poured two cups of tea. He moved over to the window and lit a cigarette.

John came down and looked over at Sherlock, raising his arm in a greeting before heading to the kitchen for his tea. 

“Morning, or afternoon, whatever it is,” Sherlock called. He put his cigarette out and closed the window. “I did not sleep well last night,” he admitted as he moved over to his chair. “I feel like I have no energy whatsoever.”

"I think I just need to wake up a bit," John said, yawning before taking a sip of tea. 

Sherlock got up and moved to his desk, checking his email. “Nothing,” he said aloud for no reason. He got up and grabbed a book from his shelf before moving to the sofa.

"Well, I guess that doesn't surprise me," John said. He started browsing the refrigerator for something to eat.

Sherlock tried to focus on his book as John made some food and brought it into the living room, sitting down and flipping through the channels. 

“What are you watching?” Sherlock asked, abandoning his book and chair for the sofa.

"Hmm? Oh, just this court show. People go on with the stupidest problems. It’s funny sometimes," John said. 

Sherlock watched for a few minutes. "Obviously, that woman is owed money -- her lease said no pets and apparently for that man, a lizard is a pet," he said. He watched as the judge insulted the woman and dismissed her case. "Why did she do that?" he asked John. "This is not justice."

"This isn't about justice. I think half of it is staged," John said. "It's just mindless entertainment."

“It shouldn’t pretend to be real,” Sherlock said grumpily. A new case started. “Both of them are lying,” he said. “But I suppose that’s irrelevant.”

"Yup. I don't think it matters either way," John laughed.

“This is stupid,” Sherlock said, getting up and grabbing his book again.

John smiled and watched him get his book again. "What are you reading?"

Sherlock looked at the book. “I don’t even know,” he said. “I’m not even reading it.” He set it down. “Let’s watch something else.”

John started flipping through the channels. "What do you want to watch?"

“This,” Sherlock said. He watched for a few minutes. “What is it?”

"Um, it looks like old episodes of Eastenders," John said.

“No thank you,” Sherlock said. He reached for the remote and chose a quiz show. “That’s better,” he said. He picked up the book and tried to start reading again.

John shifted and leaned on Sherlock, his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he watched the show.  


Sherlock glanced over at John and then at the television. “Mauna Loa,” he said and then turned his attention back to the book.

When that turned out to be the answer John smiled and pinched Sherlock's arm lightly. "Show off," he teased.

Sherlock smiled to himself and then reached over and petted John’s head. “There, there,” he said. “Don’t feel bad – maybe they’ll have a question on ugly jumpers. I bet you’ll get that one straight away.”

John swatted his arm. "Don't be rude," he said. "It’s not nice."

“I’m bored with being nice . . . I’ve been nice this entire time, well, almost all of it, and it’s boring. I miss being horrible,” Sherlock said, setting his book done and bopping John lightly on the nose.

"You like being nice, admit it," he said. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head away from Sherlock's hand. 

“That’s a lie,” Sherlock said. He glanced up at the television. “Pliny the Elder,” he mumbled. He looked over at John. “But you knew that, right?”

"Yeah, I knew that one."

“I’ll let you answer the next one first then,” Sherlock said, giving him a smarmy smile.

John closed his eyes and pretended to snore, trying not to smile.

Sherlock pushed on him and then actually pushed him all the way up. “I just need to get comfortable,” he said. He dropped his book to the floor and slouched down, placing his feet on the coffee table before lifting them and sliding a pillow underneath. “There,” he said. “You can return if you want.”

John shifted so we could lean over on Sherlock more comfortably. 

“Are you going to want some dinner at some point?” Sherlock asked. “Despite going to bed early, we both slept quite late.”

"Yeah," John grinned. "You should have known that answer too."

“I did, but I was just trying to make conversation,” Sherlock said. “Make one of the frozen things that’s left. Don’t make a fuss – today we’re doing nothing, so make it quick and easy.”

"You go make it," John said, pushing him lightly. 

“I have to do everything around here,” Sherlock said, pushing him away again and then standing up. He went to the kitchen and chose two boxes from the freezer. He stuck them in the oven and then went to the toilet. When the food was finished he brought them into the sitting room. “This looks quite disgusting,” he said, stirring it suspiciously with his fork.

“That’s what you get when you cook without a fuss,” John teased.

Sherlock took a bite and crinkled his face. “This tastes like a dead elephant,” he said after he forced himself to swallow it.

"You don't know what that tastes like," John said. Then he glanced over. "You don't, right?"

“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “What’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever eaten?”

"Hmm. I don't think I've ever had anything too unusual. I'm not well traveled like you are."

“Are you back to being boring?” 

"Don't act like you're surprised by that," John grinned.

“Then lie,” Sherlock said. “Come on, John – don’t go soft.”

"I'm not a liar. You know that too." 

“Fine,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s try this. If we could go anywhere tonight for dinner, money and location irrelevant, where would you want to go and what would you want to eat?”

"I would want to go to Greece and get a lamb gyro fresh from the source."

“Excellent,” Sherlock said. “That’s what I love about you, John Watson – I really did not think that was what you were going to say. All right. I’m coming with you, right? That sounds fine with me.”

"Who else would I go with?" John asked as he finished eating his little meal.

Sherlock took a few more bites and then set his aside. “I know a few places we could go in Greece,” he said, almost wistfully. “It’d be a nice holiday.”

"I've never been before, but I would love it." John looked over at him and smiled. "When everything opens up again, we'll plan it."

“That would be nice,” Sherlock said as he got up. He took the plates away and returned with two cups of tea. “We’ve never gone on holiday . . . maybe we really should.” He sat back down, leaning against John’s shoulder.

"If we can survive this quarantine, we can do anything," John said, leaning into him.

“We’ve made it so far,” Sherlock said, patting John’s leg. “I’m glad I’ve been stuck here with you. I mean, if I had to be stuck here, I’m glad we’re together.”

"Me too. I mean, it's been a ride, but it's been good."

“It has,” Sherlock said, remembering. “But it’s been a bit of a ride since that first day in the lab. You’ve changed a lot in my life.”

John nodded. "I could say the same thing."

“Fair enough,” Sherlock said. He leaned over and grabbed the remote. When he turned on the television, an old movie had just started so they settled on the sofa and watched that.


	9. New Guidelines

“John, I’ve decided I’m tired of lockdown,” Sherlock announced as he emerged from his bedroom.

"Well, the lockdown is still in place, so that's too bad," John said without looking up from the paper. 

“I’m aware,” Sherlock said, moving over to the window to light a cigarette. “However, I’ve decided that I’m done obeying the rules – now, before you get worried, I do not mean that I am going to break the rules.” He took a long drag on the cigarette before exhaling. “I’ve decided I’m going to change the rules.”

“What are you changing, exactly?"

“Well, I haven’t finalized everything. I’ve just decided since all societal expectations have been disrupted due to the virus, I might as well as make up my own guidelines as we move forward, ” Sherlock said. “For example, bathing . . . is it really necessary every single day?” 

"Don't start falling into uncivilised behavior on me now, Sherlock. We've made it this far."

“How about not getting dressed then?” Sherlock asked. “It’s three in the afternoon and I’m still wearing my pajamas. Is that really so bad?”

"That is not so bad. I will allow that," John said. 

“And what would you say about having a little drink even though it’s early and we’ve had no dinner yet?”

John glanced up. "Sure. I'll have a drink with you."

Sherlock smiled. “See, the world is better when we rule it – I’ve always believed that and now I have evidence to prove it,” he said as he got up and moved to the kitchen. “Wine or whiskey?”

"Whiskey," John said, grinning at Sherlock. "Might as well do the thing properly."

Sherlock poured two short glasses and returned to the sitting room. Before sitting down, though, he pulled the curtains shut. “Doesn’t matter what’s going on out there,” he said.

John raised his brows. "That's a bit surprising for you," he said. He raised his glass to Sherlock.

“I’m sick of out there – no pun intended,” Sherlock said. “I am no longer interested in anything outside of this flat.”

"And what do you find interesting inside this flat?" John asked.

“Well, look around – I’ve got quite a few interesting artifacts, excellent books, good whiskey,” he said, holding up his glass. “You’re . . . okay as well.”

"Just okay?" John took a drink. "I guess I can't blame you for thinking that, I haven't quite lived up to anything spectacular this quarantine."

“We were interesting the other day, don’t forget.” Sherlock looked over at John. “In truth, you’re better than okay, John – I just didn’t want you to get too cocky.”

"Well thank you for keeping me in check," John laughed.

“Someone has to,” Sherlock said. He leaned back against the sofa and put his feet up on the table. “Actually, can I ask, why aren’t you in your pajamas?” 

John shrugged. "I don't know. I just got dressed when I got up. Keeping up my routines, I guess," he said.

“Did I or did I not just say that this flat follows its own rules now? Routines from ‘out there’ are no longer valid. We’re a pajamas- in-the-daytime flat now, John. I think you should go change. Don’t worry – I’ll guard your drink.”

"Are you trying to drug me again?" John asked. He stood up. "Besides, I don’t wear pajamas. I sleep in my boxers and a t-shirt."

“Come back in pajamas – whatever your version is.”

John headed up to his room. He changed into a clean pair of pants and took his jumper off so he was in his t-shirt before coming back down.

“That’s better,” Sherlock said. “Your drink is still there. Shall we listen to music, watch a film, talk to each other, or do something else? The rule in this flat is that I provide options, you make the choice. Well, that’s the rule for today at least.”

"That's generous of you. If I pick listen to music, do I get to pick the music?" John asked.

“I think that’s fair,” Sherlock said. “But please . . . choose well,” he added, giving John a look.

John looked through the options and picked from his own collection, but something slow and easy to listen to. 

Sherlock closed his eyes when the music began. “Fine choice,” he said, opening his eyes again. “So does this music hold any memories for you? Tell me about your life when you first heard this song.”

"I first heard it at a show for another band. They were opening, but they were good so I looked up their music and have enjoyed it ever since. Is this the first time you're hearing it?"

Sherlock nodded. “Were you on a date when you went to see this band?” he asked. 

"No. I was young, out with friends," John said. 

“Like a child or are you saying you never dated when you were a young adult?”

"I dated. I just wasn't on a date that night," he said.

“Were the friends you went with . . . special friends?” Sherlock asked.

"What do you mean by special?" John asked.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock said. “I mean, special like us, like. . . best friends.”

"I don't think anyone is friends like us," John said.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked, glancing over at John.

"I mean . . . we're different, aren't we?" John asked.

“We are definitely different,” Sherlock said, looking up at John’s face. “That’s good, though. . . right?”

“I think so," he said. "I think it's really good."

“I think it’s really good as well,” Sherlock said, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, it’s not perfect . . . but overall, it’s really good.”

John took a long sip. "What would make it perfect? To you, I mean."

“Well, John . . .,” Sherlock said, his voice trailing. “It’s hard to say . . . because I don’t know what your reaction will be.”

"You want to poison me, don't you?" John grinned and took another drink. 

“No . . . though I may in the future, so I’d like to keep that option on the table,” Sherlock said. “It’s something more personal . . . I don’t know if I should say.”

John looked over at him. "You can tell me anything," he said.

“It’s . . .” Sherlock leaned over close to John and reached out for his hand. “Your sweaters, John . . . they’re ridiculous.”

John laughed and shoved his hand away. "Well, fine. I'll just burn them all and steal your suits."

“You can have them – I’m a pure pajama man now that the flat is my entire world,” Sherlock said, laughing. He lifted a hand to his face and said, “God, can you even remember how things used to be? It seems so long ago.”

John shook his head. "It's going to be very odd trying to get everything back to normal."

“I don’t think things will go back to how they were,” Sherlock said. “I suppose I don’t want them to, as much as I’ve complained about all this.”

They each took a drink.

“I’m going to pretend that this is how it’s going to be forever. I know it won’t be, but right now, I’m going to imagine it’ll just be us here forever,” Sherlock said, closing his eyes and imagining them. In his mind, he was really just seeing their life in lockdown and, while it hadn’t all gone smoothly, it seemed strangely perfect at the moment. “Are you imagining it, too?” he asked John, without opening his eyes.

John looked over at Sherlock, studying his profile while he wasn't looking. "Yeah, I'm imagining it."

Sherlock reached over and held John’s hand. “It’s good, isn’t it?” he said softly. “I prefer a world with just you and me in it.”

John looked down at their hands clasped together. "Yeah, it is pretty nice," he agreed. 

They sat for a little while like that, listening to John’s music. After a while, Sherlock opened his eyes and said, “We need a top up.” He dropped John’s hand and got up, returning with the bottle of whiskey. “More music or television? Or something else?” he asked.

"Let's keep listening to music," he said. He took a sip of his drink.

Sherlock pulled up some music on his computer and returned to the sofa next to John. “I used to listen to this when I was a teenager,” he said. “I know classical music is an odd choice for a kid, but I found it comforting. Like it understood everything.”

John smiled. "Somehow this doesn't surprise me."

“John, I have to tell you something,” Sherlock said, taking a drink. “I don’t understand everything. I want to, I’ve always wanted to, but I don’t.”

John took Sherlock's hand again. "That's okay, Sherlock."

“I hope it is. Knowing is good for many things, like cases and crimes, but it’s also a kind of protection.”

"What are you worried about? What do you feel unprotected about?"

“Well, remember the world outside the flat? It’s not very good most of the time,” Sherlock said.

"I know it's really weird right now. Very uncertain," he said.

“That’s true, but even before all this, it wasn’t great,” Sherlock said. “Of course, now we don’t live there anymore, so we don’t have to worry. Do you think we both understand everything in the flat?”

"Maybe not everything," John said. "But I'm not afraid of anything here."

Sherlock looked over. “Are you saying I’m afraid of something?”

"It sounds like that's what you're telling me.”

“Does it? Well, fine, if you’d like to fight about it – what do you think I’m afraid of Mr Smarty Pants?”

John thought about it for a moment, then raised their joined hands. "This."


	10. Lockdown Finally Gets Interesting

Sherlock looked away but didn't let go of John's hand. He took a drink and then said, "Should I be afraid?"

John took a sip of whiskey. "I don't know. I thought I would be, but I'm not.”

Sherlock looked over. "I'm not either, John. I do understand it now," he said. "It's partly why I decided to abandon the outside world entirely. I have everything I need and want here."

"So if you understand it, then it should be okay."

"I presume it'll be better than okay," Sherlock said, giving John a cheeky smile. He took another drink. "This my favourite part," he said, referring to the music. He leaned against John's shoulder.

John closed his eyes and focused on the music, leaning his head on Sherlock's as they sat together.

Sherlock turned his head slightly and put his mouth against John's ear, nuzzling it softly. John moaned softly before he could stop it, biting his lip.

Sherlock leaned to put his glass down on the table. He shifted slightly and turned his attention back to John, moving his mouth against the skin on John’s neck. John closed his eyes again, tilting his head to give him more room to explore. Sherlock's hand squeezed behind John's back and the sofa, as he shifted a little closer. "Your skin is warm," he mumbled as he continued to kiss and suck on John's neck.

John hummed. "That feels good."

"Everything feels good when we're together," Sherlock said.

John turned his head to find Sherlock's mouth, kissing him hard. Sherlock lifted his free hand to get lost in John's hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand went to the bottom of John’s t-shirt. John helped get his shirt off, rolling his hips against Sherlock. "I've been thinking about this since we kissed the first time," he said.

"I've been thinking about it since you moved in," Sherlock admitted. He slipped his shirt over his head and pulled John's chest to his own. John moved his mouth lower, kissing along Sherlock's jaw, sucking his neck lightly. His hands explored every inch of Sherlock's exposed skin, thumbs rubbing over his nipples. 

"John," Sherlock exhaled. "Should we . . . go get on the bed?"

"Yes, let's go."

Sherlock grabbed his drink and finished it off and led John to his room. When they got inside, he fell onto John and the bed, moving against him as they began kissing.

"It's just us," Sherlock mumbled through their kisses. He reached down and slipped his hand inside boxers, letting his hand explore John's cock.

John rolled his hips into Sherlock's hand. His whole body felt like it was on fire. 

Sherlock looked down at their bodies moving against each other. "I've never touched you here," he said stupidly, looking up at John and smiling.

John grinned. "Nope, and I've been stupid not to let you.”

"You have -- I'm quite good at it," Sherlock said, starting a steady stroke.

John nodded. "You are. It feels good."

"Are you going to be touching me at some point or will I be doing all the work here?" Sherlock said, laughing a little before dropping down to smother John's mouth with kisses.

John grinned as they kissed. He flipped them and straddled Sherlock, tugging his pajamas down. "Are you in a hurry?"

"No," Sherlock said with a smile. "Just desperate."

John started to stroke Sherlock, looking down to watch for a moment. "I know the feeling."

Sherlock leaned up to kiss his mouth and let his hips move with John's hand. "Fuck," he mumbled.

"Maybe I can try something else," John said. "Better than my hand?" 

"Such as?" 

John moved and took Sherlock's pajamas off completely, licking his lips. He started stroking Sherlock slowly. "My mouth,” he murmured, close enough for just his warm breath to hit Sherlock’s cock.

"John," Sherlock called out. He was aware how many times he'd said John's name in the last hour. It's because John was everything to him -- not just because they'd been trapped together for all this time, but because Sherlock knew now that John was everything he needed and wanted. He moved his hand to John's shoulders, stroking the soft skin that covered the muscles he kept hidden most of the time. He watched John until the sight was almost too much, and he had to close his eyes to keep from exploding.

John took Sherlock into his mouth, bobbing slowly up and down around his cock. His hand kept playing at the base as he moaned softly.

"Jesus, John," Sherlock said again. "It might be too much." He sat himself up and tried to shift John back against the bed. "Can I do the same for you?" he asked, already sliding down the mattress.

"Yes, God I'd love to see what that smart mouth can do," John smiled. 

Sherlock pinched John's side before leaning over to slide John's cock into his mouth. He held the base and moved up and down the length, using his tongue to swirl around the shaft. John moaned and squirmed as he struggled not to buck up into his mouth. “Fuck, Sherlock,” he mumbled.

Sherlock smiled at John's sounds and movement. He continued sucking his cock, kneading the muscles on John's thighs as he struggled to keep himself focused.

"Sherlock...God it feels good," he moaned. He dug his fingers into Sherlock's hair, grabbing it into a fist and pulling lightly. 

Sherlock lifted his head and quickly moved so he was lying next to John. He put one of John's hands on his head and the other on his cock and then began stroking John, steady and fast. "Let's come," he said before falling against his mouth.

John stroked Sherlock in the same rhythm, kissing his mouth hard. Moments later they were coming, moaning and breathing hard together. 

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled, collapsing against the mattress. He took a few minutes to catch his breath and then looked over and said, "You're all sweaty."

"You too," John said.

"I'm exhausted and thirsty but good," Sherlock said. "Are you?"

"All of those things," John smiled.

"I'll get us something to drink," Sherlock said. He looked over. "I'm nude and I'm going to get up and walk to the kitchen. I just wanted to warn you."

John grinned. "I'm going to take a bunch of mental pictures," he said.

"Don't bother," Sherlock said. "You can see it whenever you'd like now." He got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water before returning. "Here," he said, crawling back into the bed before taking a long drink of water. It felt good going down his throat -- his body suddenly felt tired but so relaxed.

John took several long drinks, almost draining his glass before lying down again. He looked over at Sherlock and smiled wider. "So . . . since I moved in, you said?"

"I suppose so," Sherlock admitted. "What do you think of that?"

"I think it's . . . flattering. I want to ask why you never said anything sooner, but I think I know. The timing has never been . . . right.”.

"It wasn't that," Sherlock said, leaning back against the pillow. "It's just that I wanted to wait for a global pandemic . . . I just thought it'd make it that much more special."

John pushed him lightly and shook his head. "Don't ruin the moment," he said.

"There is no moment, John. This is our world now, don't forget," Sherlock said. "Just me and you and the flat and all this business, if you want," he added, moving his hand over their naked bodies.

"Yes. I think I'll enjoy the lockdown much more if we keep doing this."

"That's what the world of our flat is about -- enjoyment," Sherlock said. Then he thought for a moment. "Well, it's partly about that."

"What's the other part?" John asked. 

"I don't remember actually -- I think I might have had a plan when I came up with this whole thing, but I've forgotten now," Sherlock said with a little laugh. "I'm putting my pajamas on, all right?"

"How come? Stay naked with me," John said, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's middle.

"Are you planning on staying naked indefinitely?" Sherlock said laughing. "I wasn't planning on getting up. It's just that I feel awake now and . . . I don't know where I was going with that." He laughed again.

"Not indefinitely, but for a little while. Maybe I'm not done playing," John grinned.

"Oh my god, are you obsessed with my body? This will complicate our new world if all you want is to get all over me."

"What else are we doing? We're in lockdown," John laughed.

"Well, what have we been doing?? I don't know -- read or work or . . . fuck, John, what have we been doing all this time? I honestly can’t remember." 

"We've been wasting opportunities!"

"So fine -- what it is you are so desperate to do, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock asked. He reached over and grabbed his pajamas. "Be specific or I get dressed right now."

John took the pajamas and tossed them in the ground. "Just lay here with me for a little bit," he said, tracing patterns on Sherlock's chest.

"Actually that's nice," Sherlock said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "I reserve the right to request this again in the future."

John smiled. "Whenever you want," he said.

"We should be quiet for a bit, I think," Sherlock said wistfully. "But I do want to ask you one thing. Are you drunk?"

"I'm not drunk. Are you?"

"No, I'm not drunk," Sherlock said. "Let's be quiet now." He rested his hand on John's on his chest. "Except one more thing. Do you think you love me?"

John considered the question for a moment. "Yeah, I do. Do you think you love me?"

"I'm relatively certain," Sherlock said. "I've not had much experience with love, but . . . yes."

John smiled and kissed Sherlock's shoulder. "Good."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Should we sleep for a little bit? Then we can get up and you can eat something."

"That sounds fine," John said, getting comfortable against Sherlock.

Sherlock kept his arm around John as he closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, but it was a different kind of sleep, the deepest kind. It was the first good sleep he'd had since they'd been locked down together. When he opened his eyes again, John was there next to him. He knew something big had changed between them, but he also knew it was a good change. He lay there for a few minutes, just watching John dream.

John slept a little while longer before shifting to get comfortable. He bumped into someone and blinked his eyes open, seeing Sherlock staring at him. "Please tell me you got some sleep," he mumbled as he wiped his eyes. 

"I did -- a proper sleep," Sherlock said. He stretched a little to prove it, but then realised the stretch felt quite good on his body. "I've only been watching you for a few minutes."

"Oh. Did you see anything interesting?" He asked.

"No, not really. I've watched you sleep before. You sleep the same now as you did then," Sherlock said. "The things before we slept, though, I found quite interesting."

"Okay, I'm going to ignore by the fact that you were watching me sleep before and focus on the part I agree with -- what we did before was interesting. And fun."

“It was fun,” Sherlock said. “Remember the other day when we were trying to prove we were interesting? We should have done that instead of the prank phone calls.”

"Too bad we didn't think about it then," John said. 

“I did,” Sherlock said. “But I was always the more imaginative one. You’re more by the book – don’t forget to do the washing up, don’t stay up too late, don’t sleep with your flatmate . . .” He picked up his pillow and hit John with it.

John took the pillow and tossed it off the bed. "No hitting," he grinned.

“Don’t be a baby,” Sherlock said. “It’s probably time for you to eat – should we have dinner?”

"I supposed I can get dressed for that," John said, sitting up and stretching. 

Sherlock got up and put his pajamas back on. “Why don’t I see if I can find a takeaway to order? I think they are some who deliver,” he said. “Just to save you the trouble of cooking.”

"That sounds perfect," John said, pulling on his boxers.

Sherlock went out and got online and checked out a few places. “Chinese, all right?” he called to John.

"That's perfect," John said, walking past Sherlock to get some more water. 

“Want to choose a film to watch while we eat?” Sherlock suggested.

"Yeah, I'll browse through and find something."

“I’ll trust you,” Sherlock said, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t enjoy the film. But he would enjoy sitting close to John so that was all that mattered.

When the food arrived, Sherlock brought it into the sitting room and sat down next to John.

“Food taste okay?” he asked.

John nodded. "It’s great. In fact, it feels like the greatest meal I’ve ever eaten.” He nodded toward the television. “Is this good enough for you to pretend you like it?" 

“I can pretend,” Sherlock said. “But I agree that the food tastes excellent. I’m not saying your cooking’s been bad, it’s just . . . this tastes very good.”

When he finished, he put his plate on the table. “When I get bored in a bit, I’ll do the washing up and bring in tea,” he said, sneakily moving closer to John. After a few minutes, he moved even closer until eventually his legs were half over John’s lap and he was leaning against him. “This okay?” he asked.

"It’s perfect," John said, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's shoulders. 

“I definitely prefer our world to the real one,” Sherlock said, snuggling in. He turned to face the television, but mostly he just relaxed against John’s warmth. 

No one knew yet when lockdown would end, but both of them would happily stay this way forever.


End file.
